Greg Veder vs The World

What If: A Darker Path I

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APRIL 12, 2011

1:23 AM EDT

The alley was dark, much like the rest of the streets in this part of the Brockton Bay Docks.

Really, it would have been entirely pitch-black if it wasn't for a single light bulb perched high above a door that led to a building owned by whatever unfortunate soul dumb enough to buy property in Merchant territory.

The only source of light in the alley fought to stay on for longer than a few seconds at a time, the thing flickering like a massive firefly. Even then, it might have been better if it just died. While the encroaching blackness that filled most of the Docks at night was more than intimidating enough on its own, darkness warning the decent people that criminals and scum would soon be roaming the night, the barely-there and intermittent illumination the light bulb provided added another level of uncertainty to the entire equation, making this alley a bit more nerve-wracking than most.

The darkness was terrifying, true. Still, light like this only served the purpose of making the things in the dark feel alive, what with the ways the shadows shifted and shook under the unsteady lighting. And as some people in Brockton Bay could attest to in these last few weeks, the creatures hiding in the dark were very much alive.

That didn't seem to bother some others, though. After all, it's well known that in nearly any imaginable situation, there will always be those few that were either too stupid or too optimistic to heed common sense, continuing on whatever their path may be, regardless of whether or not that path put them directly into a dangerous situation.

Case in point, the blond boy walking down the alley right now with a playful rhythm to his steps and a gait far too unguarded for anyone near a gang-held territory of any sort. Snapping his fingers to the beat that pounded through his ears, Greg Veder hummed along to the song on the cassette tape player in his pocket, an 80s antique that his mother had no problem letting him have. His other hand was hidden in the depths of his baggy hoodie's front pockets, a slight bulge showing up around near his stomach on occasion as he played with the object he had hidden inside.

Greg Veder knew, on an intellectual level, that he really shouldn't be in the Docks right now. After all, the PRT had done a very good job in informing the public of the suspected parahuman serial killer going around on a killing spree throughout gang territory. Bloody scenes were found every night with gore painting the floor and walls, bodies torn apart, ripped to shreds, and occasionally beaten to death without leaving a single scrap of evidence that could lead to an identity… a true master of their blood-curdling craft. With a body count estimated to be in the triple digits already, this person would have to be a rather powerful parahuman to accomplish all this in just a few weeks.

Really, any rational person would have felt nervous, scared even, of what this news could mean for them or their family. Rather than feeling terrified or nervous, though, Greg couldn't help but feel a deep sense of interest. After all, how close could the authorities really be to locating the culprit? Hell, would they ever be able to find this guy? The blond seriously doubted it. Man, BBPD couldn't find a twelve-foot dildo if it was shoved up their collective assholes.

Rectal proclivities of the police force aside, Greg really only saw this as an opportunity to farm more experience while the boys in blue were running around like chickens with their heads missing. While aware of how callous that sounded in his own head, Greg didn't really care all that much. In fact, strangely enough, he found himself caring less and less every day about what he did while chasing experience points,

The odd serenity that Gamer's Mind seemed to emanate on a constant basis seemed to come with a side effect that Greg had been doing his best to stave off, a constant feeling of numbness. Almost every smile, every laugh…

Hell, most of the time, nearly every single emotion felt hollow without Greg emphasizing the moment in his head with some sort of skill gain or, on occasion, a fight. It was maddening how pointless doing something like playing a video game felt when it didn't actually do anything for him. Any sense of accomplishment or achievement he felt from beating it didn't really mean anything when he could get that same rush times a thousand from just slamming a hammer down on his thumb over and over and over for the better part of a minute.

Or, at least that used to be the case. Nowadays, a minute was just as pointless as playing the stupid game, whatever type of game it was. It tended to be RPG's, for whatever reason. Those always felt the most boring.

As he neared the midpoint of the alley, Greg paused both his thoughts and his steps, stopping right before the area where the flickering light bulb lit up the brightest. A hand went down to his pocket, clicking the pause button on the outdated music device, and a moment later, he pulled the old-style headphones from his hair carefully, allowing the device to rest around his neck.

He blinked a moment later, eyes flashing from sky blue to a bright gold for an instant, another blink returning his iris to normal. The boy's smile grew into a grin, this time his eyes lighting up in a wholly figurative manner.

"I know you're there."

The alley remained still, silent apart from slight noises that could be dismissed as the scurrying of rats and other pests. In a way, that was true.

"Seriously, there's no point hiding. I can see you." Greg raised a hand, pointing directly at the overflowing dumpster over on the right. "Yes, you, the one behind the dumpster. And you, the one by the empty boxes. Also, you two… seriously?"

Greg's eyes flicked over to a set of discarded mannequins stacked up against the filthy alley wall as he let out a snorting laugh, eyes filled with mirth. "Who do you think you're fooling with that?" His gaze flicked back and forth between the three locations, iris flashing between gold and blue in between blinks, faster than any normal person could catch. "Seriously, did you think I was just going to let you ambush me? Are all Merchants this stupid or what?"

The alley remained silent, leaving Greg looking like a crazy person as he continued to berate the seemingly empty walls with a wide smile on his face. Then, the vague rustling noises shifted into sounds of audible movement, movement of something much larger than rats coming from several different locations.

Huh, six of them? The blond raised an eyebrow. Guess my count was off.

Almost as one, several figures rose from the darkness of the alley, shambling forward like zombies. Considering what they actually were, the phrase zombies wouldn't be too far off. With all the drugs in their system, they were only a little better than the living dead. The six men, all of them in torn, ratty, and just generally filth-covered clothing, stepped into the shuddering spotlight, most of them visibly armed.

Greg's gaze snapped down to the one on the far right, his eyes tracking the rusted weapon in his grip with interest. Wow, a machete. I'm feeling nostalgic all of a sudden.

He raised his head, giving the men in front of him an uninterested expression that seemed to display as much bored contempt as Greg could muster. "Let me guess, you were gonna rob me, beat me up and possibly stab me a few times, weren't you?" He let out a snort, rolling his eyes with expertise. "Merchants gotta merch, I guess. Still, though," the blond paused, raising a gloved hand to cover his mouth as he tried to hide a growing smile, "I wonder what it feels like to be considered scum in a city with plenty of Nazis."

Taunt Lvl Up!

21→22

One of them rushed forward, screaming profanities and invectives at Greg just like he expected. The Merchant in question, an older man with a filthy, matted beard, screamed something Greg couldn't make out and swung a dirt-covered pipe at his head. With supreme ease, Greg leaned back and to the side, watching as the look on the old man's face switched from belligerent to confused.

As he recovered from his confusion, the man swung his pipe again only to jerk to a stop as the bludgeoning tool refused to move. He glanced down at the weapon to see a pair of gloved fingers holding tight to the metal, his gaze tracking the fingers back over to Greg as he blinked in confusion for several reasons.

The hand inside his hoodie tensed as Greg's hand surged from his pocket. Before he could open his mouth again or attempt to strike once more, the Merchant's hands rushed to his throat, red seeping through his fingers as he fell to his knees. Weapon discarded, it fell to the floor with a metallic clang, scattering across the floor.

"Total slaughter, total slaughter.

I won't leave a single man alive."

Greg stepped to the side, continuing to grin at the other Merchants as he brought the blade of his knife down again in a much slower movement, driving it directly into the top of the bearded Merchant's skull. With a sick squelch, he pulled it free and flicked the serrated knife in a blurring movement, blood flying from the blade and scattering against the wall. His smile dissapeared, a bored look appearing on his face again.

"La de da de dai, Genocide.

La de da de duh, An ocean of blood."

Greg took several steps forward, walking towards the now-frightened Merchants as their bearded friend finally fell to the floor in a pool of his own fluids. The blond's disinterested expression shifted into another bright grin, eyes flashing a bright gold and staying that way.

"Let's begin the killing time."

Spoiler: STATUS